


Bullet Holes + Broken Heart

by dickgrysvn



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Temporary Character Death, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e01 The Rising, Gen, Jack’s POV, Missing Scene, Poor Mac, Tag to 1x01, because apparently I cant write anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn
Summary: Missing scene to the pilot episode, because I desperately needed Jack’s reaction to finding Mac in the water, surrounded by an ocean of red. Plus some extra emotional angst.





	Bullet Holes + Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know we’re halfway through season 3, but here, have a tag to the pilot episode anyway. Brief descriptions of blood and a gsw, in case that makes you squeamish. Also, feel free to check out my tumblr for updates on my writing and ideas over at dickgrysvnwrites! I’m always up for prompts, as well!

  Jack should’ve known that was too easy. He should’ve known it wasn’t over. But he’d ignored the nagging feeling, pushed it to the back of his mind, and now he’s paying for it. Jack feels so useless. He  _ hates _ this. Nikki is being held at gunpoint, Mac is being forced to make an agonizing decision, and Jack can’t do anything without risking Nikki getting shot. But they can’t hand over that canister. They can’t. 

  “Don’t do it, Mac!” He hates to say, but he knows they can’t let Kendrick get that cannister. Mac glances at him, terrified, and then his eyes go wide and he twitches towards him minutely. Jack gets about a third of a second to be confused before there’s a blinding pain in the back of his skull.  _ Oh _ , is all he manages to think before he drops like a rock, drifting into a state of barely conscious. He feels like he’s floating just on the edge, his vision greyed past any recognition, hearing fuzzing in and out like a bad radio. He’s aware of voices, of the cold, hard ground beneath him, of the throbbing in his head, but he can’t make out anything else. He knows he needs to wake up, but he can’t. His hearing buzzes out again, coming back just as quick as it went. A half second later, Jack hears the sharp crack of a gunshot. It makes his blood run cold, exacerbating the pounding in his head yet electrifying his foggy senses. And then he hears the scream,  _ Mac’s  _ scream, and he knows Nikki must have just been shot. It fills him with a cold dread, because if Kendrick shot Nikki, that means… The second shot comes then, accompanied by a grunt of pain, and then a splash, and Jack feels something in him break.  _ No. No not my boy. Please God, not my boy!  _

  He fights desperately, clawing his way back to full consciousness with every ounce of strength he has. He hears the sound of an engine, the tires squealing on the pavement as Kendrick gets away with the canister. But that’s the least of Jack’s worries right now. Slowly, painfully, he pulls himself to his feet, stumbling as a wave of nausea threatens to send him right back down again. But he stays up, and he sways for a moment, weighing his options.  _ Mac or Nikki… _ It’s a horrible choice, but Jack knows there’s still a logical answer. Neither Mac or Nikki are still on the road, meaning Nikki fell into the woods, and Mac— Jack lurches towards the edge of the bridge with a rising panic, the urge to throw up only half from the head wound.  _ Mac’s in the water, shot. If he’s still alive he could drown _ . And then, in the slim light from the moon, Jack sees him. The water around him is visibly red and Mac’s white shirt is now stained pink, and Jack nearly loses the war with his nausea. He bites it down and takes a deep breath, launching over the wall without another second’s thought. 

  He hits the water with a splash, and it’s so cold it steals the breath right out of his lungs. But it also clears his head instantly, and he kicks to the surface as fast as he can, now fully alert. “Mac!” He reaches the limp figure ahead of him, wrapping an arm around Mac’s chest and pulling his face out of the water. Mac’s hair and shirt are stained red, and Jack wants to cry at the sight of his partner’s pale, still face. “Mac, come on, buddy, wake up!” He treads water as best as he can, resting Mac’s back against his chest and pressing a hand over the gushing wound. He needs to get out of the water.  _ Now.  _ He can feel Mac breathing just slightly against him, and it fills him with a relief so strong it nearly sinks him. He splutters, keeping Mac’s head above water, and starts swimming backward toward shore.

  He’s just getting his feet on solid ground when Mac coughs, spewing water and blood. Jack rushes the rest of the way as fast as he can, setting Mac down on dry land and putting more pressure on his chest. Mac groans, rolling his head and whimpering. “Nikki,” he moans, and Jack feels like an icy dagger was just pierced through his heart.  _ Oh Mac… _

  “Hey, buddy, look at me. Look at me!” Jack taps his fingers against Mac’s cheek, and Mac rolls his head back to Jack and blinks his eyes half open. “There we go, bud. Here, I need to go take care of something, you stay awake alright?” He chokes on the last few words, hating this with every fiber of his being. But he has to go check on Nikki, if she’s still alive. Mac blinks slowly, managing a minute nod and a faint hum in response, and Jack takes off up the side of the hill.

  He reaches the bridge and skids over to the van that’s thankfully still there. He snags a sat phone out of the back, dialing as he runs over to the opposite side of the bridge. The phone rings against his ear as he scans the ground below him, his breath caught in his chest as he strains for any sign of Nikki. His heart drops into his stomach just as the click in his ear signals Patty just answered.

   _“Jack? What is it?”_

  “Patty, listen, we need a medevac.  _ Now.  _ Mac’s been shot, it’s bad, and Nikki–” his voice catches in his throat, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Nikki’s gone, Patty.” There’s nothing but silence over the line, and Jack’s about to pull the phone away to check the connection when he hears Patty’s sharp exhale.

   _“Chopper will be there in five, Jack. What do you mean ‘Nikki’s gone’?”_ Thornton’s voice is flat and cold, and if Jack didn’t know her he would think she didn’t care. But he knows she does. He screws his eyes shut and turns away from the empty valley below him, pushing down the guilt and anger in his gut and running back to Mac as quickly as he can.

  “They shot her, Patty, they shot her and Mac and her body’s gone. They must’ve taken her to dump somewhere, I dunno.” He pinches his nose, ignoring the blood staining his hands. “And before you ask, Mac fell into the water, they probably figured he’d just sink. And don’t ask me why they left me alive, I have no idea. But I gotta go, Patty, Mac’s in bad shape,” he finishes in a rush, dropping back to his knees next to Mac’s once-again still form. He doesn’t even listen to Patty’s answer, just clicks end and drops the phone in the foliage beside him. 

  “Mac! Mac, buddy, you still with me?” He presses hard against the hole in Mac’s chest with in hand, the other fumbling to find a pulse. He slumps against his heels when he finds it. It’s faint, and Jack vaguely registers the presence of tachycardia, but it’s there and it’s still fairly steady, and Jack feels like he can finally breathe. He can hear the thud of the chopper blades fast approaching, and he closes his eyes in a silent prayer. He presses even harder on Mac’s chest, trying to elicit a response out of the pale boy currently bleeding out in the plant life alongside Lake Como.  _ This is so so wrong _ , he thinks numbly, tapping his fingers against Mac’s cheek again. “Mac. Mac! Come on, man, wake up, please,” he mutters, and he knows he’s practically whining but he doesn’t care. “Open those pretty blue eyes for me, pal.” Mac groans softly, letting out a sharp exhale as his eyes crack open just a hair.

  “J’ck?” He slurs, voice almost imperceptible, and Jack laughs through the tears threatening to spill over.

  “Hey, bud. Yeah, it’s me. You with me, kiddo?”  Mac closes his eyes again, and Jack’s about to tap his cheek again when Mac hums softly. Jack loses his battle with the tears, and a couple slip through his lashes as he ducks his head and cups his hand tightly against Mac’s neck. The continuous contact with his pulse point is reassuring, and Jack lets his composure crumble, just a fraction. He absentmindedly sweeps his thumb back and forth across Mac’s cheek, vaguely aware of the tears tracking silently down his face. He feels the increasingly unsteady  _ thump-tha-thump-thump  _ of Mac’s heartbeat, and he’s infinitely grateful he can hear the medics approaching, their shouts and the rattle of equipment as they make their way over to them growing louder by the second.

  Just like that, they’re everywhere, and Jack’s being pulled away from Mac and he struggles to stay, to be with his boy, but he’s pulled away by hands stronger than him as the adrenaline wears off and his head wound catches up with him. So he sways, help up by a medic, watching transfixed as they slide an oxygen mask over Mac’s face and cut his once-white shirt away. He gasps violently as he catches a glimpse of the vicious hole in Mac’s chest, and then he’s being steered up the hillside, the medic next to him rambling on incoherently. They reach the waiting helicopter, and Jack registers that the medic hadn’t been incoherent after all. It was Jack’s own brain that was at fault, and he realizes the medic is still talking.

  “You need to let me dress that head wound, Agent Dalton,” the man says, and only then does Jack register the sticky feeling at the back of his skull.  _ Huh _ . He nods numbly, only agreeing because he knows the quicker he gets this taken care of, the quicker he can be at the kid’s side. He lets the man help him into the chopper, never taking his eyes off the gurney following closely behind. He hisses sharply as the medic starts probing at his head, but he keeps his eyes glued to Mac, his face covered by the mask, torso covered in blood and gauze and equipment leads. There’s people shouting and monitors beeping and an incessant thudding in his skull, and he has to force himself to keep his eyes open as the helicopter lifts off.

  Minutes later, thought it feels like an eternity to Jack, the medic is satisfied he’s done all he can for Jack, and Jack lurches out of his seat into one as close as he can get to Mac without being shoved out of the way. He slumps against the side of the helicopter, eyes tracking every rise and fall of Mac’s chest as the doctors work to stop the bleeding. But the steady thud of the blades and the constant beep of Mac’s heartbeat soon lull him into a daze, and he lets his head slip forwards as he drifts off, hand reaching out for Mac even though he knows he’s too far away to reach.

  
  
  
  


  When Jack jolts awake ten minutes later, it’s to a flurry of activity and an open helicopter door. He jumps shakily to his feet as they wheel Mac out, and he shoves his way as close as he can this time, not letting anyone push him away. He gets right up on one side of the gurney, and the doctor next to him glances over, protest on her lips, only to clamp her mouth shut at the determined look ok Jack’s face. He reaches a hand out and snags Mac’s pale wrist, closing two fingers tight around it to feel his pulse. It’s still tachycardic, and Jack shouldn’t be shocked by that but it still terrifies him. He glances at Mac’s face, startled to see a sliver of blue staring hazily at him, and he cracks a smile. He slides his fingers down to Mac’s palm, squeezing tightly as they run through the hospital doors.  _ You’re gonna be okay, Mac,  _ he thinks, as if he could telepathically communicate it through his fingertips. Mac’s eyes slide shut, but his hand flexes fractionally against Jack’s fingers, and Jack screws his eyes shut against the tears that threaten again. He knows Mac got the message, telepathic link or not. So he doesn’t put up too much of a fight when a nurse blocks his path just before the OR doors, throwing up his hands and coming to a halt with only a token protest on his lips. The nurse directs him to a waiting room, eyes soft as she tells him where the bathroom is as well. Jack looks down, following her gaze, and starts as he notices the blood covering his hands and forearms. Suddenly the nausea from before comes back with a violence, and he skids to a halt in front of the bathroom sink, jamming his hands under the faucet as fast as he can. He stares in horror at the blood mixing with the water, mind flashing to the image of Mac floating facedown in the lake, water stained red around him. He slams his hands down on the sink and bites down on a scream. A scream for Mac, for Nikki, for himself. He’s lost too many good people, and it never gets any easier. He doesn’t know what he would do if he ever lost Mac. And Nikki… Jack wasn’t as close to her as he was to Mac, but she meant so much to the kid that Jack knows it’s going to wreck him. For a long, long time. Jack shakes himself out of his thoughts, splashing water over his face quickly before turning off the faucet and staring at himself in the mirror.  _ He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay _ . He repeats it like a mantra as he makes his way to the waiting room, as he sinks heavily into a seat to wait, as he sits and watches the secondhand tick slowly away at the clock. He repeats it because it’s true.  _ It has to be.  _

  
  
  


  Patty joins him nearly two hours later. She’s still in her dress, but her hair is frizzy and unkempt and Jack can tell she’s dead on her feet, even if no one else can. She sits down quietly in the chair next to him, face set and hard, but her eyes are soft, and Jack knows she’s mourning the loss of an agent. He almost reaches for her hand, the urge to feel the comfort of a person’s touch crashing violently against his chest, but he catches himself at the last second. Patty has never been an emotional person, and while Jack knows she cares, she never makes any attempt to show it. So he’s beyond shocked when he feels her hand brush across his gently, and he snaps his head up to find her watching him with the most emotional look he’s ever seen her wear. She rests her hand on his, and Jack closes his eyes and exhales deeply. He doesn’t know how much he can get away with, but he decides to push his luck, just once. He flips his hand over beneath hers, catching her fingers in his and squeezing. It’s more for his own sake than hers, and Patty must realize that because even though she stiffens initially, she doesn’t pull away, letting Jack take comfort in the warmth of another’s contact. After a couple seconds, Jack relaxes, leaning back into his seat and resting his head carefully against the wall. 

  
  


  He’s not sure how long they sit like that, but he realizes he must have dozed off when he’s jerked awake by a sudden slight pressure against his fingers. He snaps his eyes open just as Patty takes her hand away, and he sees the doctor in scrubs who’s now making his way over to them. Jack shoots up instantly, breathing deeply against the wave of dizziness it brings. The doctor looks exhausted, and Jack’s terrified. And when Jack’s scared, he rambles. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying past asking how Mac is, just that he’s talking and the doctor is trying to calm him down. Jack manages to bite down on his words, clenching his jaw tightly in suspense, and the doctor smiles softly. 

  “Macgyver is doing fine, it was touch and go for a bit, he had some water in his lungs and it was complicating the surgery, but he’s through the worst of it now. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, but with time and rest he should make a complete one. He’s a fighter,” the doctor finishes gently, and Jack wants to scream and laugh and cry and hug everyone around him.  _ You have no idea _ , he thinks proudly, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Mac is okay. He shakes his head, reaching out a hand for the doctor to shake.

  “Thanks, doc. Thank you,” he chokes out, and the doctor shakes his hand warmly. “Can we see him?” The doctor nods, and Jack’s already itching to bolt in whatever direction the doctor tells him.

  “He’s still unconscious, but they’re moving him to his own room as we speak. By the time you get up there, he should be all settled in. But I wouldn’t expect him to wake up for another 24 hours or so,” he adds, and Jack nods, only half listening. The doctor tells them the room number, and Jack’s vaguely aware of Patty thanking him before he takes off down the hall, making a beeline straight for the elevator. 

  
  


  He reaches Mac’s room just as the last nurse is leaving, and she gives him a soft smile as she passes him. Jack attempts a half smile back, but he’s so distracted he doesn’t really pay too much attention to it. He pushes open the door slowly, almost scared of what he’ll find. He stops cold at the sight of Mac, pale and gaunt and covered in wires and bandages and tubes. No matter how many times Jack sees him like this, he’ll never get used to it.  _ Although, it’s never been this bad without me right there in the bed next to him _ . And that right there is the crux of the problem. Jack hates being the one left uninjured. He hates that he’s okay while Mac’s unconscious in a hospital bed, a giant hole in his chest and wires taped everywhere. Jack runs a hand over his face before stepping further into the room. He knows it’s absurd, but the steady beeping of Mac’s heartbeat does little to assuage his worry, and he quickly makes his way to the stiff plastic chair at Mac’s bedside. He falls into it gracelessly, nearly tipping it over in his haste, but the only thing he can think about right now is making sure he can feel his partner’s heartbeat for himself. He wraps a clumsy hand around Mac’s limp wrist again, breathing shallowly as he searches for Mac’s pulse point.  _ Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump _ . He exhales sharply and sags against the mattress, every bit of energy drained out of him. Mac’s heartbeat is steady, and strong, and Mac’s skin feels _right_ under his fingers, no longer cold and clammy like it had been before.  _ He’s okay. _ Just like before, he slides his fingers down to Mac’s hand, wrapping them tightly around his palm and holding on for dear life. He sniffs harshly, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes just as the door opens. He looks over, watching Patty as she walks in. She doesn’t say anything, and her face doesn’t change, but Jack swears he can see her shoulders relax just a touch, and he smiles softly. 

  “He’s gonna be fine, Patty,” he whispers, not really knowing why he does but feeling the need to anyway. Patty smiles at that, just a fraction of a smile, and only really recognizable to people like Jack, but a smile nonetheless. She makes her way over to the other side of Mac’s bed, hand reaching out to briefly brush the back of Mac’s hand. Jack looks away, feeling like Patty would kill him if he said anything, and keeps his mouth shut. Just as quickly as she touched his hand, she straightens again and takes a breath.

  “I have to get back, but I’ll send someone to bring you a change of clothes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back here before he’s back stateside, but let me know when he wakes up, Jack.” She heads back to the door, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. Jack nods quickly, and she stops at the door. “And Jack?” Jack looks up sharply. There’s something in her voice that brooks no distractions, and he’s willing to oblige. “Losing Nikki wasn’t your fault.” And then she’s gone, and Jack is left reeling.  _ Not my fault.  _ He didn’t even realize it until she said it, but he had already been blaming himself. Surely if he’d done something differently, if he’d gone to check on her first before Mac–  _ Yeah, then Nikki and Mac would both be dead. She was gone before you were even fully conscious, Jack.  _ He knows it’s true. But that doesn’t mean it won’t still plague him for a long time to come.

  But for now, he shoves that aside and focuses on the kid in front of him. He looks down at their joined hands, and he smiles softly. He squeezes Mac’s hand, leaning back in his seat and settling in for a long wait. No matter how long it takes Mac to wake up, he’s not leaving his boy. Not ever.

  
  


  It turns out that 25 hours and 15 minutes is exactly how long it takes Mac to wake up. Not that Jack was counting. But as soon as they hit the 24 hour mark the doctor had mentioned, Jack had sat up straighter in his seat, refusing to rest and anxiously waiting for his boy to wake up. The extra hour and fifteen minutes were more than enough to set Jack on edge, so when Mac’s eyes finally flutter open, Jack jolts forward in his seat so fast he nearly falls out of it. “Mac, hey buddy, you with me?” He keeps his voice soft, running his thumb gently over the back of Mac’s hand still encased in his. Mac’s eyes slowly track over to his face, and Jack smiles, tears threatening to spill over as Mac’s eyes flash with recognition. “Hey, kiddo. Welcome back,” he chuckles, and Mac squints, groaning. “Whoa, hey, you okay?” He doesn’t even wait for a response, reaching over to push the call button without ever taking his eyes off Mac. Mac stares at him, brow furrowed, and Jack sees his other hand start to move towards the cannula in his nose. Jack quickly snags the thin wrist in his fingers,  _ tch _ ing at Mac with a stern look. “Nuh-uh, bud, that stays in, you hear me?” Mac grunts, almost pouting, and Jack once again has to fight the tears. And then—

  “Wh- _ hnn _ … Nikki–” Mac’s voice is rough and slurred, and his eyes widen sharply as he appears to remember just what happened. Jack’s heart shatters as the kid tries to jolt upright, eyes wide and crazed, and he can no longer stop the tears as he catches sight of the big, glittering drops on Mac’s cheeks. “Nikki! No, no, Jack, she’s–” Jack stands up, blinking through the tears as he tries to keep Mac laying down. It’s not that difficult, even with how much Mac is fighting. He’s still so weak it’s almost nothing for Jack to push him back down. But he still squirms under his hands, and Jack can see its causing him pain, but Mac’s so distressed he doesn’t even care. But Jack does.

  “Damn it, Mac, stay still! You were  _ shot _ , hoss, you gotta stay still, for me, okay?” His voice breaks on the last part, and he hates it, he hates yelling at Mac, but it must work because Mac instantly goes limp. He screws his eyes shut, and Jack can feel him shaking.  _ He’s crying _ , Jack realizes, horrified. Jack knows it must be the drugs they’ve got him on, the lack of fluids and the blood loss and the pain, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Slowly, Jack sits back down, but he doesn’t take his hand off Mac’s good shoulder. There’s nothing but silence for a moment, and then Mac’s voice rips through his heart like a piece of shrapnel.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she,” he whimpers, and Jack wants nothing more than to run, to run and run and never look back because this is the worst thing he’s ever had to do. He wishes he were anywhere but here in this room, holding onto a kid who’s falling apart in more ways than one, knowing he’s the reason another piece of him is going to break now. He swallows hard, squeezing Mac’s hand tightly in his own, his other hand steady on Mac’s shoulder, as if to ground him. And then he leaps.

  “I’m sorry, Mac. She-she’s gone, kiddo. I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, and he wants to look away. He doesn’t want to see Mac’s reaction to the finality in his words, but he owes it to himself and to Mac to be there for him, one hundred percent. He’s not going to leave his boy to deal with this alone just because it hurts.  _ I’d walk through hell for you, kid.  _ It scares him, and he’s not sure why he thinks of it now, but it’s true. It has been since almost the moment they met. So he keeps his hand tight around Mac’s, keeps his eyes glued to his face. For almost a minute, Jack thinks Mac must’ve passed out again, because there’s no reaction from the frail blond. And then Jack sees the tears sliding down his cheeks, and he wants to scream and punch something so hard his knuckles bleed.  _ Mac never cries _ . Jack can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Mac cry in the five years he’s known him. In fact, the only time he ever saw Mac cry was when they couldn’t save that kid back in the Sandbox. And even then, he only cried when he thought Jack wasn’t looking. So this… this is foreign territory for Jack, and it itches at his skin and tears away at his soul. He feels so helpless, watching numbly as his boy cries silently in a hospital bed, a bullet wound in his chest, and a matching hole in his heart.

  Eventually, Mac actually does drift off again. Shortly before the nurse comes to check on them, Mac cries himself to sleep, with tear track stains on his face and a death grip on Jack’s hand. It’s surprising how strong a grip the skinny kid has, but Jack’s not complaining. He knows it’s Mac’s way of grounding himself, and he’s more than willing to lose a few fingers if it helps Mac grieve.  _ How much more can this kid take _ , he thinks grimly, and he drops his head and lets a few more tears fall.  _ He doesn’t deserve any of this.  _ He tips forward, resuming his previous position, head pillowed on his and Mac’s joined hands, and he lets the steady thud of Mac’s heartbeat lull him into a dreamless sleep.

  
  


  Mac sleeps for another 14 hours, and it’s beginning to drive Jack absolutely stir crazy. He’s itching to get out of the hospital, to bundle Mac up in a blanket and tuck him up in the corner of his couch. He hasn’t left Mac’s room since the first time he came in, and the only time he even left Mac’s side was to change, when Patty sent him a fresh set of clothes the night before. With that set of clothes was a water bottle and some jerky, and Jack sent up a silent prayer of thanks for those blessed gifts. Both have long since been emptied, but now Jack no longer feels like a hollowed out shell. At least, not physically, anyway. He’s contemplating getting up and pacing, because he’s not sure how much longer he can just  _ sit _ here, when Mac’s hand twitches in his grip. Jack leans forward in his chair, eyes scanning every inch of Mac’s face, ready to hold him down again in case the kid wakes up fighting. But the second Mac’s eyes slide open, Jack knows he’s lucid this time. He can see the pain behind Mac’s blue eyes, and even though it kills him to see it, he knows it means Mac remembers their previous conversation. He relaxes, smiling softly as Mac blinks tiredly at him. “Hey, buddy,” he greets gently, and Mac hums in response. 

  “Mmm… how long?” He croaks out, and Jack chuckles wryly.

  “How long in general, or just since you woke up last?” Mac tilts his head slightly, and Jack nods. “Right, both. Well, last time you woke up was about 14 hours ago, and you’ve been here a grand total of, oh, 39 hours and 15 minutes?” He makes a show of checking his watch, faking a yawn. He’s pleased when Mac huffs a slight chuckle, but the boy quickly sobers again.

  “And you’ve been here the whole time?” The kid’s voice is rough and dry, and Jack leans over to grab the cup of water on the table before answering.

  “Yep. There was no way I was gonna leave you, pal. Not now, not ever,” he states, trying to keep his voice casual. But he watches Mac closely, trying to gauge his response. He recognizes the tone in Mac’s voice. It’s the one he gets when he doesn’t think he deserves something, and Jack hates it. It’s silent for a minute as Mac takes several seconds too long to finish his drink, and Jack knows he’s stalling. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Mac, listen. I know this is hard. I know you’re in a not-so-good place right now, but I need you to understand that I would never walk out on you, kid. Especially not at a time like this. Promise me you understand that,” he pleads, and Mac slowly meets his eyes. He swallows hard, and Jack feels his chest fill with ice as Mac’s eyes fill with tears. He nods slowly, and then he’s crying again, and Jack leans forward and pulls Mac carefully into his arms. It’s a testament to just how tired and drugged and drained the kid is when he clenches his fists into the back of Jack’s t-shirt and buries his face in his shoulder. Jack closes his eyes, tucking his chin against Mac’s hair, letting a few more tears fall as Mac’s frail frame shivers in his arms.  _ I’m so so sorry, kid. If I could take this pain away from you, I would.  _ He wants to say that out loud, but he knows Mac just needs to let it out. So he keeps his mouth shut, and he holds his boy as tight as he can, and he cries right along with him. Eventually, Jack knows Mac will be okay. He’ll get through this, one day at a time. And Jack will be with him every step of the way. 

_ I promise. _


End file.
